A Literary Arts Journal
Danielle Grillli
1
poem
images:
Titelblatt von Thomas Hobbes’ Leviathan
Issue number 28314 of The London Gazette
Schéma montrant la pose d'une mine marine et son fonctionnement interne. Hebdomadaire français Le Miroir, 6 septembre 1914.
MXRA Magnified fluoroscopic image of a fingertip
above Public Domain
Danielle Grilli is a mommy, poet, web designer living in Los Angeles. She holds an MFA in Poetry and Creative Writing from New England College. Her work can be seen in various print and online publications around the globe.
Buncrana
Buncrana, how you shatter me.
Despite morning upon morning upon morning of futile dreamings, years stretched behind me like so many uninhabitable deserts (where the chuckwalla go to stretch belly to sky, to bask and suffocate within the very heat of the thing) –after all the surrenders, nights spent shying beneath Southern California stars at 4am (all shiver and submission, all prayer and desperation), in this terrifying space of the world.
After the great wash had finally come to claim me–after the wishing, finally, for nothing. After all the breastworks had been raised–spikes laid–land mines placed strategically within soil, sea, fingertips (sighing)–leviathan. After.
How fucking dare you–You with all your big wonders, all your–magnificent beauties (taunting) –And when we all know–I have become the thirsting thing……the empty daydream….the great submission.
Listen, we all know how this thing will end. Is there anything else? Is there?
